


April Showers Bring May Flowers

by jeweniper



Series: Fic Amnesty 2016 [2]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweniper/pseuds/jeweniper
Summary: Sometimes you've got to lose something to gain something a little better. But Abe doesn't care about that. He just knows he burns a little hotter than most people, and that everything pisses him off. Except maybe the rain.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is day two of my Fic Amnesty! I've actually wanted to write abemiha for a while because I love them deeply, and I've always liked this idea for them, I just never got around to finishing it! So here we are. Is it perfect? Heck no. But at least it exists now. Time to let it go. I hope you can enjoy it.
> 
> I am distinctly aware of how cheesy my title is, but I almost called it "Divine Intervention" which I think is somehow worse.

Usually, when one loses an important thing, it brings nothing but bad news. But sometimes, it doesn’t. This is a story of one of those times.

Once in the recent past, in a town near the sea (but not so near as to collapse without tourist intervention), lived a man by the name of Albert Tittlington. Not a charming man, or even a particularly handsome man, just a man. A man with few friends who hated his employer, but I digress. Anyway—

Abe tosses the stack of papers unceremoniously onto the tabletop and snorts. “This is shit. Have you been doing this instead of working?”

“What do you mean?” Tajima retrieves his manuscript and cradles it like a wounded child. “They’re going to love it!”

He was probably right. Infuriatingly, Tajima had an uncanny knack for penning best-selling children’s books. Abe liked to imagine his own immaturity resonated with his audience.

“Yeah, okay.” He downs the rest of his still-steaming coffee (no cream, two sugars) and stands from the table, chair screeching protests all the while. From beneath his friend’s scarf he unearths his phone and gives it a glance while turning towards the door.

“You in a hurry?” Tajima asks. He's got the manuscript propped in the crook of his elbow and whipped cream half-disturbed on the top of his latte. His posture is relaxed, usual energy tempered by the café’s lolling ambiance.

“Always.” He gives the chair a short kick to reunite it with the table, then approaches the glass door at a light jog. Mid-morning sunlight surrounds him lazily, but he shoves roughly through it to the busy street. The brisk air that wriggles into his lungs is welcome, and he takes a moment to savor it while adjusting his rolled sleeves. One day of unnaturally cool spring weather and every establishment this side of the Metro kicks up the heat.

However, it’s only half a moment, as he really is in a hurry.

While striding past strangers on the street in an attempt to return to work on time, Abe wonders again why he doesn’t just each lunch in the kitchen. They literally MAKE food where he works, it’d be so easy. But that café is equidistant between Haruna’s business and the publishing house, so he and Tajima often meet up there. Also, the thought of being around Haruna anymore than necessary makes his blood boil more than usual.

Someone’s beanie blows off of their head and he grimaces while dodging it. But it lands right next to him and he’s the closest, so he reluctantly reaches down to grab it. Depositing it back into their hands, he catches a glimpse of his watch and scowls. He’ll be two minutes late and that means a snide comment from the Grand Asshole himself. Annoying. Sweat begins to bead at the back of his neck and he wishes, not for the first time, that he were allowed to wear shorts to work. _Do I have my medication?_ It seems like a quick rise, could be bad.

He hops across the street and sharply turns the last corner in his path, where suddenly there is rain and a bike delivery-man in his way. Abruptly he stops, irritation spiking, and reaches around for his bag, where he locks eyes with a young man along the curb. He is petit, with a golden-brown mop trying to compensate for the lack of volume of his body. The raindrops are beautiful in his hair. Momentarily, Abe forgets his medication. The young man opens his mouth, too far to speak, closes it, and shuffles forward to put his umbrella over Abe’s head. It’s just shy of a downpour, though no rain was forecasted. The umbrella is a small grey one, as though chosen to take up as little space as possible, at the risk of not doing much good at all.

“Did you know it was going to rain?” Steam rises like nagging curiosity from his arms and shoulders, his shirt barely wet.

The young man worries the scarf at his neck with a gloved hand. “I-I….I have a con…dition. Kind of…”

 Abe finds this answer very vague and the highly annoying, but he doesn’t have time for it. “Okay, whatever. Thanks. Anyway, I’ve got to go.”

“A-Are you…cold?” The young man asks, as though he hadn’t spoken.

“No,” he retorts gruffly, “I have a condition.” At that the young man’s eyes sparkle and he nods erratically, a bobble head come to life. This baffles Abe more than ever, but the rain has helped his rage subside some, so he decides to move on. “You should get a better umbrella.” He ducks from beneath it and heads into the building.

“Abe is that you? Haruna says the new menu you submitted sucks!” Izumi calls from the back as soon as he opens the door, which pisses him off so much he immediately forgets about the young man with the rain-speckled hair.

He dumps his bag unceremoniously onto the floor by his desk and storms straight for the kitchen. “Haruna,” he snarls, any lingering moisture evaporated from his shirt and scarlet rage blotching up his neck, “what the hell is wrong with my menu this time?”

Haruna glances up at him lazily, hovering over an open text and a saucepan with something boiling in it. “Oh, hey Abe. I just thought it was kind of boring, you know?”

He takes a long, raspy breath and wills his fists to quit shaking. “It met all of the required specifications for the client. Had the ideal nutritional variety for their diet, and took their preferences into account. What do you mean boring?”

He finally stands up straight and shakes his head lightly, smile turning steely. “It just lacks creativity, you know? Where’s your sense of adventure? But I guess your menus have always been like this. ”

A thudding begins to pound in the back of Abe’s head, and the tremors are now affecting his whole body. “You don’t know—“

“What, you think I can’t make a menu as _perfect_ as you? The great Abe Takaya and me, an idiot with a spoon? Ooh, your whole face is red now. What, you going to hit me Taka?” He sneers the old nickname and Abe grits his teeth so hard they ache, stomping out of the kitchen, grabbing his bag, and continuing out onto the street. “Come on time or don’t come at all, Abe!”

He could kill someone with the amount of rage roiling off of his body, so he heads to the closed-down sandwich shop and slumps onto a patio seat. After fifteen minutes of breathing exercises he still can’t calm down, so he reaches into his bag and pulls out…nothing. He turns the contents out onto the table and sifts through papers, detailed notes, and ingredients lists; but no small tube of prescription capsules. He must have lost it when he almost ran into that cyclist, or maybe it fell out when he dumped his bag in the office. Either way, it’s gone, and the knowledge of that threads his rising anger with a thorny vine of fear. Headache returning, he places his forehead on the cool concrete of the table and hits his speed dial.

“Hello Abe,” Dr. Shinooka answers with surprise.

Abe grimaces. “Hey doc. By any chance could I get a refill on my prescription? I seem to have,” he pauses to get through a particularly painful bout of thudding, “I seem to have lost track of it.”

“What?” Her voice is instantly serious, which does not make him feel any better. “You don’t have any of it? Abe, you are the only case at your severity that I’ve heard of, unfortunately I don’t have any on hand…are you panting? What are you at right now?”

He considers getting out of his shirt just to alleviate some of the heat. “A nine,” he answers, referring to their 0-10 scale of his irritation. Most people hover around a 0 or at most a 3. Abe usually sits at 6. She begins telling him to go to the hospital but he’s no longer listening. Instead he sits up and watches the field in front of him suddenly darken with the kiss of rain, crawling forward until it has enveloped his little patio seat and the closed down shop as well. The droplets are cool on his neck. Squinting, he notices a bobbing little patch of grey near one of the trees, until out pops the young man from before, hair and shoulders glistening with wetness.

“Ah! A-Abe!” He exclaims quietly, dangling a small package from the hand not holding his useless umbrella.

“Hello? Abe, are you there?” Dr. Shinooka sounds frantic. He suddenly remembers the phone call, but suddenly it all seems very unnecessary.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he responds distractedly. “I think I’m at a 7 now, coming down. Got to go. Let me know when you’ve got more in.” He doesn’t listen when she tells him to wait, ends the call instead. The young man is stopped in front of him, shifting on his feet and looking intrigued but uncomfortable. “You called me Abe.”

He jumps. “Yeah, I h-heard from your…coworker. When you. Went inside? Sorry…”

Abe doesn’t know why he’s apologizing and the jitteriness is distracting. “Would you sit down already?” Apparently it’s the right thing to say, as he perks up before plopping down right next to Abe on the bench. “Is that ice cream?”

He nods happily, tearing the package open with his teeth and chomping down on the ice cream sandwich. “I love…ice cream.”

Abe doesn’t mention that it’s a cold spring day, or that he should really just give up on that stupid umbrella. He admires the water pooled in his eyelashes and the slope of his nose before shaking his head to clear the image. “Why does it always rain around you? Uh…”

“I’m…Mihashi Ren! I h-have a condition.”

When it’s clear that’s all he’s going to say, Abe heaves a big sigh. “Well thanks. Your rain has saved me twice already, I guess.”

Mihashi goes rod straight and turns an alarming shade of salmon. He jumps up. “N-no! Couldn’t save…anybody. I can’t. No good…Abe! Is nice!” He looks awfully determined, though about what Abe couldn’t say if you paid him. His eyes burn with an unexpected intensity though, and it reminds him of how Haruna’s used to look, way back before they grew into completely incompatible people. It looks nice in the hazel of Mihashi’s eyes.

 Abe blinks at him owlishly and only feels a temporary spike in irritation. His phone buzzes and he reads the text quickly, grunting in mild relief. “Uh-huh,” he says, wondering if he and Mihashi actually had a conversation or not. “Well I’ve got to go. Um, goodbye.”

Mihashi waves at him as he leaves, and he can’t help but think that he looks so much smaller, sitting alone in his rain like that.

* * *

“Hey man, sorry I’m late,” Abe brushes a few droplets of water out of his hair, since he wasn’t burning hot enough for them to evaporate. He rushes over to where Tajima is seated in a booth and feels his features soften. “Hanai, good to see you too.”

“Abe late? This is new. Did you lie about blowing up and quitting? Were you with a _girl_?” Tajima waggles his eyebrows and Abe’s scowl settles back onto his face. “Oh right, who’d want to date you?” He slides further into the booth, away from Abe’s swatting hand, and grins.

“Tajima, don’t be a dick,” Hanai scolds half-heartedly. “So Abe, this is a formal description of what we’re looking for at the center,” he hands him a sheet with a job description on paper with “Nourishing Home” written on the letterhead. “A number of the senior residents have some pretty particular dietary requirements and our stand-in had to leave kind of suddenly so there isn’t a whole lot of time to prepare, but what do you think? Tajima strongly pushed for you and believe it or not I trust his judgment so, want to do it?”

He nods. “I really will kill Haruna one of these days, so this is actually a godsend. I’ll do it.” Hanai begins laughing at the comment, but quickly stops when he realizes it isn’t a joke. “Um. We’re looking to add another cook too, so if you know anybody, let me know.” He begins to shrug on his jacket and tsks at Abe’s short sleeves. “See you in a few days, then.”

While Hanai leaves, Abe can feel Tajima’s eyes on him. “Did you get your medication back?” Abe shakes his head. “How’d you come down then?”

 They may not always see eye to eye, but Abe recognizes that Tajima cares about people. He also asks a lot of questions. Abe looks out the window, where the orange pinpricks of distant street lights remind him of raindrops nestled in golden-brown hair. “Divine intervention.”

When he tours the retirement center a few days later, he gets a sense that the small staff is all pretty close. He hopes his own natural aloofness, or his constant annoyance, won’t ruin that. Director Momoe appears to run a pretty tight ship, and when he considers the residents’ requirements along with the budget, he finds that his work will really be cut out for him as the nutritionist. They do a simple menu left from the stand-in that day, and though Abe does his best to help Sakaeguchi and the others in the kitchen, he agrees that they really, _really_ need a proper cook. The stress of assisting in the kitchen and having to explain simple things to Sakaeguchi as he asks for them takes a toll on him, and against his wishes he feels the immediate temperature around him climb up. They get through the day, and Abe crosses his arms in resignation on the way out. Dr. Shinooka hasn’t called him, which means one thing.

He’ll have to see if he dropped his meds at Haruna’s.

According to Izumi, Haruna should be gone by this time of day. He hasn’t eaten anything in a while, but he doesn’t want to risk running into him by coming back, so he heads straight for the small building. He uses the spare key Izumi left for him and sneaks in, leaving the lights low just to be safe. It’s only been a few days, but the shadowed corridors already look alien to him, and he hits his shin on the desk when he finally finds his old office, which irritates him. He’s shining a flashlight beneath the filing cabinet when the room blinks into white light around him. He expects to see Haruna but instead finds somebody else. “Akimaru,” he notes, still crouched beside the cabinet. He and Akimaru were in classes together at grad school. He’s an obvious choice, but coming face-to-face with his replacement leaves a stone of discomfort in his throat.

“Oh, Abe.” He doesn’t sound too surprised. “What are you doing?”

Abe shifts to get rid of the stone, but really just wants to leave. On the floor with Akimaru at the doorway makes him feel like a cornered animal. “You didn’t find any medication in here some days ago, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. But Haruna might have. You should ask him.” The hair on his arms stands up at the mention of his name and he frowns deeply. “I don’t understand why you hate each other so much. You guys at least used to be civil.”

He doesn’t want to be here, and he definitely doesn’t want to talk about Haruna. So he stands up, brushes himself off, and grinds out, “thanks for the input,” between clenched teeth and heads for the door. He shouldn’t be this angry already, but when he hasn’t eaten there’s less inside him to burn first. It’s stealing his energy, and his hunger sours his mood even more, so in a rush to get home he takes a few wrong turns and ends up in an unfamiliar neighborhood. The sky is choked with oppressive rainclouds here, and the air is muggy, but the clouds haven’t broken yet. He hears a sniffling and turns, catching a glimpse of orange in the corner.

“Mihashi? Is that you?” He coughs, trying to stave off his headache and the shaking in his arms.

Mihashi peeks at him from around the corner, once again reminding Abe of unfortunate animals. He’s in an apron and appears to be crying despite the vanilla cone in his hand. There are a few other ice cream wrappers at his feet. “W-why is Abe…here?” He sounds horrified, which makes something in his chest sting.

“Why the hell are you crying out here?” He doesn’t mean to bark it out but he does, and Mihashi’s eyes well up further. “Shit,” he curses, holding his head.

“I-I’m…I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” Thunder splits directly overhead, and torrents of rain come pouring out of the sky.

Abe has to squint through the downpour, but he thinks he can still see Mihashi cowering with that damn umbrella. “I’m not mad at you!” He yells over the thundering rain. “Fuck, I’m hungry,” he mutters darkly, feeling woozy and pissed. He can’t find his way home like this, and he can’t go see what’s wrong with Mihashi either, which is very important to him suddenly. So he holds his pounding head and sits down on the sidewalk. The rain lets up somewhat and Abe sees a worn pair of converse appear at the edge of his vision. He looks up. Mihashi grips his umbrella with white knuckles and is gnawing frighteningly at his lip, but that determination is back.

“Abe…doesn’t. Look good. C-come with me. Please? Worried…” He tentatively reaches a hand down, and Abe grabs it to help himself up. Instead, he is pulled up with surprising strength. Mihashi then moves his hand to loop protectively around Abe’s waist, and the two of them hobble up to one of the nearby apartments.

Something in Mihashi calms him, and he waits quietly for him to open the door, staring at the little umbrella that he has placed on the floor. “That umbrella isn’t big enough for you.”

“I’m f-fine.”

“No. It isn’t doing anything for you. What if you get sick?”

Mihashi gapes at him from the now-open doorway, and then looks down. “D-doesn’t—“

“Don’t you dare say it doesn’t matter.” He shivers, a physical response to being drenched, though he doesn’t feel it. “It does matter. I’m going to worry if you get sick.” Once he’s blurted it out he knows that it’s true.

Mihashi smiles at him then for the first time, something quiet and small like a match in the night. “Abe cares about m-me the most.”

That makes him feel warm, in a different way than usual. He looks down quickly and coughs. “Do you eat anything other than ice cream? I’ve only had a yogurt today.”

He perks up at that, waving Abe into the apartment. “I will…cook. For Abe. Sit.” Abe is skeptical that he’ll receive anything other than a sundae a la mode, but he watches with growing interest as Mihashi moves expertly around his kitchen. He takes some leftover rice and tosses it into a skillet with chopped vegetables and some pieces of chicken that he prepares in another pan, and as he cooks the fried rice he makes a side salad and miso soup. Finally, he cuts little sausages and plates everything. The smell alone is enough to make Abe dizzy with hunger. “Just leftovers. Sorry.”

Abe considers leftovers to be what’s left after he makes packaged curry, not this. He can construct a menu, but he’d burn water if you left it in front of him. He takes a bite, then a few more. “This is amazing.” Mihashi turns salmon again and beams at the table. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

He seems surprised at this and shakes his head. “Not hungry. Oh! But…” he gets up and pulls something out of the freezer.

“No!” Abe insists. No more ice cream! At least eat with me right now.” He frowns at the way it sounds, thinks he should feel embarrassed. “So that I know you eat meals too. I’m a nutritionist you know. Constant ice cream isn’t healthy.” At first it looks like he’s going to protest, but eventually Mihashi reluctantly returns the package to the freezer and slinks over to the seat across from Abe. They eat in silence for a little bit before Abe broaches the subject. He isn’t too good with delicacy, isn’t even going to try. “Why were you crying out there?”

Mihashi blanches and then deflates, returning his bowl to the table. It makes Abe’s anger rise somewhat, but he isn’t sure what he’s mad at. “Just.  I love…to cook! B-but Kanou. Better. People l-like him too. Will be head c-chef. I don’t w-want. To quit. But Kanou. I can’t...” He grips the table cloth like it will allow him to get the words out. He sighs and releases the fabric, giving Abe a sad smile. “I make things. Worse.”

Abe growls and clanks his own bowl on the table, causing Mihashi to startle. “That’s the best meal I’ve had in a while,” he says, and means it. There’s something earnest and sincere about it, even a kitchen train wreck like him can feel it. He settles a steady stare on Mihashi, almost dares him to disagree with what he’s saying. “And every time I’m in a pinch, you’re there with exactly what I need. So how could you make everything worse?” Mihashi opens his mouth and Abe barrels forward. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“N-No! Never!”

“That’s right. And I say you’ve made everything better for me.” He scratches his nose and looks away, but he reaches across the table to squeeze Mihashi’s hand in order to communicate his conviction. “So believe in yourself. I think Kanou would want that too.”

When Abe peeks, Mihashi appears conflicted and he worries that he’s overstepped his bounds or said too much. But slowly, a genuine smile nudges its way onto his face, and he nods once in Abe’s direction. He looks relaxed in the sunlight that hesitantly breaks through the cloud cover. If he thought he got smiled at before, he was a fool. Abe stares at Mihashi, stunned, and swallows thickly before weakly reaching for his cup of tea. The room is warm, and so is the tea, but for the first time in a while he’s got goose bumps on his arms.

He’s hiding a smile in his tea when a thought pops into his head. “Say Mihashi, you like to cook, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Abe’s sweating but from pure nervousness this time. Ever since he’s spent more time around Mihashi, his general temperature has gone down, and he doesn’t spike above 7 very often. Mihashi seems to be benefiting too, bringing only overcast cover most of the time, aside from an occasional sun shower. And even if it did rain, Abe insisted he get a larger umbrella, one worthier to protect him. Dr. Shinooka calls it a miracle. Abe calls it convenient. But he’s worried. He suggested Mihashi become the new cook, but can he even communicate with anyone?
> 
> He stands before Tajima and Hanai, wringing his hands. “I’m…Mihashi Ren! Going to. Do my best! For Abe!”
> 
> Abe looks as confused as Hanai at the mention of his name.
> 
> “Oh, so it’s like that?” Tajima whistles at a bright salmon Mihashi, and Abe gapes at him in bewilderment. “Nice to meet you Mihashi! Can I call you Ren? What made you like Abe that much?” He loops his arm around Mihashi’s shoulder and the two of them stroll into Nourishing Home, holding a conversation that flows much more naturally than any he and Abe have had.


End file.
